Coping
by hpsnluver214
Summary: Dean teases Sam sometimes about always being the bait on their hunts. Sam gives him an annoyed look, but Dean interprets it as ‘don’t take me for granted, jerk.’ Dean rolls his eyes. He should’ve listened


Sammy had been gone for college. He had been separated from his family for countless times. He had been missing in hunts too. Hell, he even got lost a couple times.

But Dean always found him. Or Dad. Mostly Dean.

What was that old saying? You can't fix what was never broken? You can't start what never began? For Dean, it's 'you can't find what you thought you lost, because you never had it in the first place.'

The truth is, he thought he knew Sam like a book. No, scratch that, he doesn't take interest in books. He thought he knew Sam as much as he knows how to load and unload a gun without opening his eyes, or even thinking of what he's doing. He _thought_ he knew Sam. He was _his_ Sammy for God's sake.

Guess he was wrong.

They've pretended to be nonexistent people in ways they couldn't count. Sergeants, cops, FBI agents, guards. They've put on masks before people they didn't know. For jobs. Or something more personal. Mostly for jobs. Trouble is, he thought Sam drops his mask down when they were together. That only _he_ knows who Sam really is, who _Sammy_ really is. It's easy to tell when Sam was lying through his teeth, when something's bothering him. Damn those eyes, so fucking expressive. So Dean fell for Sam's bait, because he didn't think there was a trap there in the first place. When it comes to Sam, it's all in the eyes, right? He couldn't keep a secret very well. He couldn't tell a damn good lie. He couldn't keep things from his brother.

Right?

Dean thought Sam drops his mask when they're together. Or at least, Dean takes Sam's mask off himself. He's been doing so, ever since he knew it was his job to protect his little brother. He thought he was. Guess it was one job he didn't, no, _couldn't_, finish. Because really, Sam's mask? It's been superglued to his face. Just like that damn beer bottle to his hand. Can't take the damn thing off. Because Sam wanted it on. And Sammy gets what he wants. Or maybe he just doesn't know how to take it off. Neither does Dean. Nobody does.

Dean teases Sam sometimes about always being the bait on their hunts. Sam gives him an annoyed look, but Dean interprets it as _'don't take me for granted, jerk.'_ Dean rolls his eyes. He should've listened. He didn't notice it before, but he really was taking his brother for granted. Sammy's always been the smart-ass, the research-kid, the _geek boy_. He didn't realize that whenever Sam's doing his thing, researching and all, he's hunting ahead. He's been doing the first move all along. Dean just kills the fucker and cleans up. And Sam cleans _him_ up. Sammy always began their hunts. Sammy always end their hunts. As simple as that.

When Sam left for college, he and his Dad had a fight. Dean knew it was the biggest one of them all. Sam and Dad were screaming, _cursing_. Dean didn't do anything. He was too shocked, too _scared_, to do anything. And that might have been the reason why Sam didn't answer his calls and mails. Sammy thought he hated him too. So Sam didn't have a choice but to ignore his family and hate them back. What else can he do? He can't apologize. Why, because he was proud? No. He didn't know how to. Nobody taught him. That is, before Jessica came to his life.

It's funny how hospitals have that effect on people. Makes them think about what they're about to lose. Or rather _who_. And Dean was one of those people. Another victim of the hospital vibe.

They've pretended to be a lot of things. But being a patient was never one of them. Because really, it wasn't in their list. They never_ intended_ it to be on their list. Hospitals are places humans don't _want_ to be in. And the Winchester men are human too, God didn't make an exception for them.

Dean ran a hand on his head. _'How could things be so damn fucked up?'_ Here he was, sitting with his Dad on a hospital waiting room. Waiting…waiting…waiting…and waiting. And thinking. God, thinking right now _hurts._ Ironic, really, 'cause everybody does it all the time.

_How can I not know that he was planning on getting himself killed? For me, no less! For Dad! _

Because he loves you.

_But-_

You think he doesn't love you as much as you love him?

_He _left_ us. For college, all those years ago. He didn't think of what his leaving will do to us. _

Didn't he? How long was it until he got the nerve to tell you?

_For weeks._

Exactly. Don't you think he hesitated about leaving at all?

_But he kept this secret. He shouldn't have made a deal with that demon. It killed Mom and Jess, damn it! _He _should know that. _

He does. And that's why he did it.

_I don't understand. _

He did it to save you. He's just doing his job.

_It's _my_ job to save him, not the other way around. _

Is it? Do you really think that you would have survived being John's soldier if it weren't for Sam needing your protecting?

_He still shouldn't have made that deal. And look where that damn deal led us! To a fucking hospital! I _hate_ hospitals! It's so fucking clean, but it's the dirtiest place I've ever been to! He should've told us that he was going to give himself to the demon in exchange for Dad and my safety. God, he knew about it all along and he never told us! _

He didn't because of the same reason he didn't tell you immediately about Stanford.

_And what is that?_

There was no answer. Of course there wasn't. There shouldn't be. _'I'm talking to myself.' _It took all of Dean's willpower to keep his tears at bay. _'I'm so sorry, Sammy…'_

Somewhere in the hospital, a patient was living his last moment. His shaggy hair overlooked his eyes, those puppy-dog eyes. He never told his brother that he wanted his hair that long because he sorely missed it after Dean called putting Nair on his shampoo a prank. He never told his brother a lot of things. But it's okay now. Because finally, he was almost free. Finally, he could breathe. Finally, he knows how to take his mask off. And somehow, he knew that Dean would know everything he should know. That Dean would be fine. Hurt, maybe, but he could cope. He's the strongest person Sam has ever known. His hero. His protector. His brother.

And at his last living breath, he said the only thing that made sense to him.

"I'll miss you too, Dean…"

**Author's Note: **Confusing, right? Well, that's because this was supposed to be an alternate ending to a story I was going to write. (Note the word "alternate") And I thought it could pass as a one-shot, so there you go. If you want the real story, I could write it up. Just leave me a message on the review. I've got the plan for each chapter all written down, anyway.

I hope you noticed why I inserted that last sentence of the story. To Sarah: Yeah, I'll miss you too. To Dean: Yeah, I'm sorry too. Remember? I know, I know, I'm sorry about this fic, it's really confusing at some parts. But whatever. I finally got it off of my brain and I can get a good night's sleep.

p.s.: Heh, not to sound cocky or conceited, but I really like this quote from my story:

_It's _my_ job to save him, not the other way around. _

Is it? Do you really think that you would have survived being John's soldier if it weren't for Sam needing your protecting?

It's not inspirational, but it made sense, didn't it?

p.p.s.: If you were confused about this quote: _For Dean, it's 'you can't find what you thought you lost, because you never had it in the first place.' _This is my explanation: If Dean (well, the Dean in my story anyway) had Sam, he should've known when Sam was hiding his 'secret' that he made a deal with the demon. Dean's just torturing himself here, but he won't be torturing himself sooner or later 'cause he's gonna see "something." And that "something" would be revealed if I write that other story I was talking about. Hehe, I know, evil me.

**Disclaimer:** Didn't put it up before 'cause I thought you would've loved it if you just went on with the story. Anyway, Supernatural was never mine, isn't mine, and won't be mine. The only things I own are, well, that's personal.


End file.
